Meredith McCardle - The Eighth Guardian

“That’s not true,” I whisper.

“Really? So tell me something about myself then. I mean, other than the fact that you finally figured out who my dad and brother are, which, for the record, it kind of hurts my feelings that you haven’t mentioned it since I told you.”

“I . . .” I open my mouth and then shut it. Because she’s right. I don’t know anything about Yellow.

“Do you have any idea how much I sacrificed to be here for you? I left the only life I’ve ever known. I abandoned my family. And let’s not forget about this.” She thrusts her arm across the table.

“I didn’t ask you to . . .”

“You didn’t have to.” She pulls back her arm. “I like doing the right thing. And believe it or not, I think you’re doing the right thing. I want to help, but you’re not making it very easy. And now you’re talking about going back in time and stopping your dad’s death. That’s not what I signed up for.”

I shake my head. But she’s right. God, she’s so right. I’ve been nothing but selfish since I joined the Guard. The only person I’ve thought about is me. How can I advance? How can I get the next level of clearance? You get what you give, and all I gave was negativity. It’s no wonder the others never really liked me. Well, besides Indigo.

Yellow’s brother.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I . . .” Everything running through my head about being out of my element sounds like an excuse, and I don’t do excuses. “You’re right. You’re exactly right. I’ve been really unfair to you. I judged you the first second I saw you, and I haven’t let that go. I’m sorry.”

Yellow lets out a breath, and her shoulders relax. “Well, if I’m being perfectly honest, I totally judged you, too. And I resented your presence. Most of us didn’t like the idea of outsiders coming in and taking over the Guard. We probably weren’t as welcoming as we should have been. But everyone does think pretty highly of you. You’re smart. You’re resourceful. And you have some balls, woman. I mean, the Gardner. That was intense, and you didn’t even break a sweat.”

“No, I pretty much wanted to piss myself the entire time.”

Yellow’s face widens into a smile, and I reach across and grab the notebook. I flip it back open to the page of the Dallas mission.

“Look, all I want to do is to go back to Dallas and figure out who CE is. This thing is like a spiderweb. We tear at one corner of it, and the rest will collapse. We identify CE, and that’s all the proof we’ll need that Alpha is corrupt.”

“But why CE? And why Dallas?”

“We’re not going to get any bigger than CE and this mission. Ten million dollars.” I toss the notebook back to her. “Flip through there and try to find another. But considering all we have are dates, it’s kind of hard to figure out what the missions are. Dallas is pretty much the only lead we have right now. Stopping the JFK assassination? That’s huge. We uncover CE, we rip away half that spiderweb.”

Yellow flips through the pages. “But doesn’t that mean CE is going to have his tracks pretty well covered?”

“Probably.” I pick my fork back up. My well-done steak is kind of cold now, but I’m so hungry it doesn’t matter. “We’ll have to work extra hard.”

“And your dad?”

I swallow a bite. “We’ll see what happens.”

Yellow sets down the notebook and picks up her fork. She pushes her beans around on her plate. They pool in the blood-red juice seeping from her steak. I can tell she’s still hesitant about this plan.

“Okay,” she finally says. “We’ll go to Dallas. First thing in the morning.”

My stomach is in knots when I wake up the next morning. I ignore it and pack up the three files and the notebook, and we leave the Parker House. The streets are filthy, lined with animal waste and trampled food. Horse-drawn wagons clomp down the cobblestones. We pass a butcher stall right there on the street. A dead pig hangs from a wooden rail. I fiddle with my watch, and Yellow looks visibly nervous. Like maybe she doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to project again.

“Do you think we can get away with using the gravity chamber?” I ask. “It’s only a few blocks from here.”

Yellow shakes her head. “I wouldn’t risk it. They probably have it rigged so they’d know when we used it.”

I nod in relief. Because obviously they have it rigged. I only offered to be polite. I suggest we head into an alley to get some privacy before we project.

“Hang on,” Yellow says. “I want to duck back into Shreve, Crump & Low first.”

“The jewelry store? What, do you have your eye on a necklace or something?”

She shoots me a dirty look and walks into the store. A few minutes later, she’s back, holding a small velvet satchel.

She shakes it as she walks up to me and smiles. “Gold. I bought two ounces of it with the rest of our money. It’s going to be worth significantly more in 1963. Instant money in our pockets.”

I open my mouth to say something, then close it. Because that was a genius idea. I wish I’d been the one to think of it.

We duck into an alleyway where there’s not a soul around.

Yellow tucks the satchel inside her dress and turns to me. “Is your watch set?”

“Yep.”

“November 21, 1963?”

“I said yes, Yellow.”

She huffs. “I was just checking. There’s no need to get pissy.” She grabs both of my hands and takes them in hers. “Let’s do this together.”

“That’s a charming sentiment and all, but I can’t close my watch face if you’re holding both of my hands.”

Yellow lets out a giggle and releases my right hand. I reach up and grab the pendant hanging from my neck, and Yellow does the same, then squeezes my hand.

My dad. We’re going to see my dad. I have the image of him from his Annum Guard file in my head as I click the lid shut.

We’re shot up into darkness, and I instantly know something is really, really wrong. A loud screeching sound erupts in my head, and light explodes in front of me. My body is pulled and stretched, and the screeching is getting louder. It’s going to rip open my eardrums. It tears down my body and penetrates my heart. I feel the screeching echo in all four chambers, and it’s going to kill me. I try to clutch at my chest, but we’re going too fast.

Yellow and I land in the same alley, sixty-nine years later. I drop onto my knees and grab at my chest with my hands. I feel as if I’m having a heart attack. Deep pains throb inside my chest and shoot down the left side of my body. I’m dying. My heart is going to give out, and I’m going to die.

“That was kind of awesome,” I hear Yellow say above me. “That wasn’t bad at—Iris?” Her voice is panicked now, and she drops down next to me. “What happened? Are you all right?”

I keep breathing, forcing the pain away. I try not to inhale too deeply.

“Iris!” Yellow shrieks.

I just keep focusing on my breath. Inhale the pain. Exhale it all away. Inhale the pain. Exhale it all away.

“Iris, say something!”

“I’m okay,” I whisper, keeping my eyes closed. “It’s getting better.”

“What’s getting better? What are you talking about?”

I open my eyes. Everything seems to be fading now. “That wasn’t the worst projection you’ve ever made?”

Yellow scrunches her nose. “No. That was the best projection I’ve ever made. Well, apart from the chamber ones. I barely felt a thing.”

My head starts to shake, back and forth, though I have no idea I’m doing it. “No. That was terrible. That was like every projection I’ve done over the past couple days added together and multiplied by ten.”